Stay
by FieldOfPaperFlowers
Summary: Reyna has always been reluctant to let anyone see under her armor, but sometimes, by the grace of the gods, someone comes along that makes it okay. Leyna, featuring one-sided Jeyna and canon Jasper. Twoshot. CPMPLETE. Written before HoH.
1. Part One

_A/N: Happy birthday to me (the 5__th__)! Brief hiatus break. **Part one of a twoshot** that's really just a long oneshot. I make **no** claims to brilliance; I'm just avoiding other work. Translation: review nicely._

_Also, everybody should go read "Snare," by o Mischief Managed. Puts me to shame. Basically my favorite Leyna fic ever. Read it and adore her, omgs. It's hot like tater tots._

_Disclaimer: I do not own PJO._

* * *

Reyna had a mental list going: things that she would never in a million years have anticipated. Things that ranked pretty high included having a Greek _probatio_ elected praetor, or acquiring an addiction to jelly beans. Now she had something else to add: Jason standing in the doorway to her office, surrendering the camp bomber as a peace offering.

"Use your best judgment," the son of Jupiter was saying. "Keep in mind that Leo did majorly help us defeat Gaea, so try to stay out of 'cruel and unusual' territory."

The camp bomber went a little pale, his grin freezing in place. Reyna treated him to her best death stare.

"Thank you, Jason. I can take it from here." Praetors didn't dismiss each other, so they just nodded in sync, and Jason clapped his short Greek friend on the back and left.

She rose from her seat and stepped toward her guest/prisoner, her chin high and her hands clasped behind her back. A professional examination. Her first impression was that she didn't like the look of him—he looked wild, unpredictable, in a different way from, say, Percy. He was almost elfin, with his thick black curls and pointed ears and crinkly small nose. She knew about the eidolons, but going by appearances, she suspected he might do anything to get a laugh. Well, she was not laughing.

"Name," she said.

He jumped, laughing a little, nervously. "What?" He began to fiddle with his tool belt.

"Your name," she repeated in a clipped tone. Now she was irritated. Did Jason consort with idiots since his time in the Greek camp?

"Oh. Uh, Leo Valdez. You may have heard of me as the Super-Sized McShizzle."

Oh, gods. He was _this_ kind of person. She wanted to rub her temples, but she settled for blinking deliberately, clenching her jaw. "Godly parent?" she forced out.

"Hephaestus. In Roman he's Vulcan, I think, like Star Trek." He gave a half-grin, raised his eyebrows, hoping for a laugh. She didn't respond.

"Excuse for attacking the peaceable city of New Rome with your warship?" she asked coldly.

His fingers worked double-time on his belt pockets, pulling things out and putting them back, buttoning and unbuttoning, twisting, turning, tugging. His mouth sped up too. "I thought you already—it wasn't me—not really. There were ghost possess-y things—eidolongs—_lons_—eidolons, that's what they're called. And one of 'em was all, 'Hey, look at that hot stuff, let's possess him and make him do stuff he wouldn't normally do, like start a war.' So if we're gonna 'cruel and unusual' anyone, it should be that ghost." He smiled at her hopefully.

She was unimpressed. "Really. I'll keep that in mind. Now, as both of my fellow praetors are effectively Greek ambassadors, I'll be conferencing them in when I decide what to do with you. Of course, I still have the prerogative."

Valdez actually gave a little sigh of relief. She stared him down in disapproval: he would do better to fear her.

"Until I come to a definitive decision, you will work to repair what was broken in the war," Reyna ordered. "You will have at least one legionnaire of centurion rank or higher supervising you at all times. You will not do anything without consulting me first. If you disobey, you will be put under house arrest. Do you understand?"

He nodded, pretending to be pensive. "Do I have to consult you for, like, snack time? Or potty breaks?"

She closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose. Why had Jason done this to her? "I anticipate I'll have your punishment decided within forty-eight hours. You may leave now."

Leo cocked his head. "Wait, so I don't get to ask any questions? It only seems fair. I want my turn at interrogation."

Bold. Foolhardy, even. Reyna's death glare returned. "Go right ahead," she said, low and dangerously calm, hoping he would take the warning and go, but he didn't. He was either very brave or very stupid. She was leaning towards the latter.

"You're Reyna, right?" he asked as his brilliant first question.

"_Praetor_. Reyna. Yes."

"We don't have praetors at Camp Half-Blood."

"I'm aware."

"The others told me about you," he continued, clearly oblivious. "I mean, they left out the whole Gorgeous and Homicidal part, but they mentioned you were a little territorial."

She ignored the attempt at flirtation. "If by 'territorial' you mean I don't like people shooting at my home, then yes, I'm a little territorial."

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Look, I'm sorry about that. It wasn't m—well, it _was_ me, but not _me_ me. I would never do that. Like I said."

Reyna crossed her arms in front of her armored chest, her nails digging into her skin as she tried not to entertain murder fantasies.

"Don't worry, homicidal girls don't bother me. Some people just can't take the awesomeness of the great Leo Valdez," he said with a grin. So that was it? Apologize and go back to hitting on someone entirely out of his league? Incidentally the same person proclaiming judgment on him? Oh, yes, _that_ was a _genius_ tactic. What a way to win a woman.

"Leave," she ordered, unable to take any more of him.

He threw her a flamboyant grin. Then he ducked out the door and ran for his life. That was, as far as she was concerned, the smartest thing he'd ever done.

* * *

The sun was high when Reyna came out to watch the children of Vulcan and Hephaestus at work. She met Percy and Jason at the edge of the gathering, all three of them in their fine purple capes. The boys were separate from their female counterparts for once, a feat even more remarkable since Percy and Annabeth's stay in Tartarus, but she didn't say anything about it. They were not here to socialize.

"I have a list of what we used in the war," she said, pulling out a clipboard and pen and flipping through the pages. "We need to see what's okay, what needs to be fixed, and what needs to be replaced. Any preferences on how we sort it out?"

The boys shrugged, and she did the same.

"Fine." She divided the list into approximate thirds and handed them out. "It's categorized by the demigod in charge of it. So, for example—" She glanced at the first page of her own section. "—I need to see Nyssa, daughter of Hephaestus, about the celestial bronze cannons."

"Gotcha," Jason said, flapping his papers in a salute. She narrowed her eyes infinitesimally—the gesture was strange, flippant—but even if she had wanted to ask him about it, he and Percy turned away, and that was the end of that.

As it turned out, Nyssa's cannons were only in need of a good oiling, so Reyna marked them down as "okay" and moved on to the next few items: Hannibal the elephant's gear (to be fixed), a couple of enchanted yew bows (to be replaced), bomb balls (mostly okay). But then she flipped to the second page, and she took one look at the first item and groaned. _Greek warship_ Argo II, _under care of Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus._ Briefly she considered trading her section of the list for Jason's, but deep down she knew it would be unprofessional. She just needed to summon her diplomatic skills and do it.

After she climbed up onto the deck, she followed a trail of oil drips and found herself ducking into the _Argo II_ engine room, wincing against the increase in noise and fumes. Holding her breath, she scanned the room until her gaze landed on the back of a T-shirt, smudged but bright orange underneath the grime. Something shot up a stream of steam and the T-shirt jerked backward, revealing Leo, pumping his fist and taunting the steam.

"Excuse me?" she called, more than ready to pronounce him under house arrest. He should have had a supervisor, one of her higher-ranking Romans around to make sure he didn't—ah. Dakota was passed out on the table in the corner. Great. That was helpful.

He didn't notice her. "Yeah, you thought you were tricky," he grinned, one fist bouncing toward the steaming machine. "But _nadie se rie al _Genius Supreme Commander Valdez—"

Nobody laughs at the Genius Supreme Commander Valdez? _Really?_ "Ex_cuse_ me," she shouted, stiff and sharp (why did _she_ have to have him?), but that seemed to do the trick. He turned in surprise and for a moment she read on his honest face that he was at a loss—what had she come for? Was she here to admire his work, or to collect him for execution? And just for that second, by accident, she felt a little bad for him.

But the moment passed—Leo forced a grin, and Reyna straightened her back.

"Morning, _reina_," he said with a jaunty salute. "What can I do for you today?"

Sighing, she shuffled the papers in her clipboard and absently twirled her pen in her fingers. "I'm here to check up on the ship."

He brightened, his expression clearing, brows raising and uncreasing, smile stretching just a little more naturally. She couldn't tell if it was because he liked the topic in particular or simply because it wasn't _I'm here to take you to your death_. "Great!" he exclaimed, hopping out from behind his current project. "Gimme a second, I'll show you around." He vaulted over one of the big engine-looking things and landed beside her with a gymnast's flourish.

The surprise silly gymnastics were not as big of a surprise as its result: without thinking, she was tempted to say _eight out of ten_, maybe pretend to hold up a judge's score card, and though she neither said nor did either, the thought itself shocked her. The mere temptation to tease someone was rare, as few people dared to joke around with her. And the rareness was compounded by its being _Leo_, whom she barely knew and didn't particularly care for. It would appear his silly demeanor brought out her sense of humor, rusty though it was. Strange. She'd have to work on suppressing that.

Reyna shook her head just a tiny bit to clear it, and she half-turned toward the door. "Let's go, Valdez, I haven't got all day."

"Aye, aye, grumpy cap'n lady," he said with a grin and another salute, and he trotted to the door, sweeping his arms in the universal gesture for _ladies first_. She stepped back into the hallway, head high and shoulders back, and when she was through he jumped out too. His gaze went to her arm—was he thinking of offering his?—but thank the gods, he didn't try it. Instead he bounced ahead, gesturing for her to follow him. "I'm glad you've come, I mean, not you personally, even though you're amazing, just somebody in general," he babbled.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"People just think the _Argo II_ runs great by itself and never has any trouble, which is understandable given my amazing skills, but really, we just won a war, so I think that merits a little TLC. Wouldn't you think?"

"Indubitably," she said flatly, uncapping her pen. "Can you show me anything in particular?"

Leo's expression brightened. "Sure!" he said, turning a corner, and then he launched into a lecture on trireme anatomy. She didn't understand ninety percent of what he said, but his enthusiasm was somewhat reassuring, and she did catch key words like "fine" or "needs." She wrote down what she could and made notes for questions to ask when he ran out of air.

Eventually he did, and before he could reopen his mouth she asked, "Can you just give me the condensed version of that? I really don't need the technical nuances—I just need to know what parts to budget for."

"Oh, uh, sure." His grin didn't reach his eyes quite as fully as before. "Here: you can put down that I need some new converter belts, more firepower for the cannons, new canvas for the mainsail, and better wiring for the internal lighting."

She marked these down as addendums to what she already had down. "Do you have any numbers for sure, or just 'some'?"

"Four belts," he said immediately. "Five pounds of gunpowder, just in case. Twenty-seven and a half yards of canvas, and seven yards of wiring at least. And if there's any extra room in the budget, a new Wii remote would be great."

Hmm. Reyna noted these as well, irritated at the slight sense of being impressed that was niggling at the back of her head. _Of course he's skilled_, she told herself. _He's one of the Seven of the prophecy, and the head of his godly half-siblings._ She shrugged it off, but the pragmatist in her held onto it. She hadn't yet decided what to do with him, though she'd been leaning toward banishment from Rome. But this checkup was making her think he might be useful. He clearly wasn't a threat, and if he knew mechanics this well, it might be more hurt than help to ban him from ever coming around. Especially given the talk of an aerial navy that the Senate had been throwing around.

Leo was staring at her, waiting. Damn, she was thinking again. She tapped her pen against the paper and said neutrally, "These repairs don't seem too bad. Must be a decent ship to have survived the war so well."

He beamed, this smile shining in his eyes. She almost took a step back. "Thanks, Reyna. She is pretty much the awesomest thing ever."

She didn't correct his use of her first name without a title, but just in case he was thinking about getting comfortable around her, she made sure her queenly posture was as flawlessly imposing as ever. "That will be all. I'll see myself out. And, Valdez—next time make sure your supervisor is conscious."

As he blinked rapidly at her standoffishness, a few emotions ran across his face, too quickly to name. But he recovered with his typical grace: "Thank you for the fabulous pleasure of your company, milady," he said melodramatically, sweeping her a clumsy bow. "Please feel free to come back if you need to meet your daily quota of awesome."

Reyna eyed him, trying not to be amused and mostly succeeding. "_Tonto_," she sighed under her breath, _idiot_, with a little shake of her head, and without waiting to see if he'd heard, she turned and swept toward the staircase that led up to the deck.

It turned out that he had in fact heard her. At lunch an hour later, Reyna approached the Seven just in time to hear Leo ask with serious determination, hanging bothersome over Jason's shoulder, "—_is_ she? She insulted me in Spanish."

Jason was unimpressed, or maybe just unsurprised. He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "I think she's Puerto Rican, yeah."

"_Dios mio_, man, you know what this means?" Leo demanded, ecstatic, practically bouncing. "There's finally somebody who can—"

"Be irritated with you in more than one language?" she supplied, perching beside Annabeth on the opposite couch. The blonde gave her a smile; Reyna's lips quirked as she nodded in return.

Leo immediately fixed his attention on her, dark eyes focused, searching, undeterred. "_No, mi reina, hablar conmigo en espa__ñ__ol," _he corrected. He wanted to speak Spanish with her?

"_No es de buena educación usar una lengua diferente a la que se habla en un grupo_," she reprimanded him, the Spanish rolling too easily off her tongue to stop it: _it's impolite to use a language different from that spoken in a group_. But rather than shaming him, this only encouraged him, and his grin gained more teeth. "_Que tonto eres_," she muttered, and then she switched back to English. "Does everyone's food taste all right?" Not that she truly believed it was questionable—she just wanted verbal confirmation that her Romans and her Greek guests were both satisfied.

"Great as normal," Jason said, Piper leaning into him. "How's work coming?"

Reyna gave a small shrug, her jaw clenching at the couple's closeness. If it had been just him, she might have considered going into more detail about answering letters, trying to handle war repairs, deciding Leo's fate, but she didn't know the rest of the Seven well enough to admit any weakness. "Fine. There's a lot of it."

He didn't make any sign that he read her discomfort through her curtness. She would have liked to imagine he did see it and just didn't want to embarrass her by pointing it out here, but really, she knew there was a much better chance that he simply hadn't noticed. She put it out of her mind for now.

* * *

Reyna was returning to her office after going for her midafternoon hot chocolate when Leo got in her way, quite literally. He walked into her path and then began to back up, remaining always in front of her.

"_Buenas tardes, reina_," he said nonchalantly, grinning at what he probably thought was a sly use of Spanish.

Her response was cool and crisp (and English): "Afternoon." She tried to circumvent him to the left, then to the right, but both times he moved with her. "Out of my way, Valdez."

"Where you going?"

"To work, believe it or not."

"Can I come?"

"Do I look like a daycare center?" Reyna feinted left and then skipped around Leo to the right, and she got a few seconds of quiet walking in before he caught back up with her, this time trotting along at her side like a puppy. An irritating puppy, the kind that would dig up gardens and pee in the living room.

"No, really, I had some questions about some stuff," he said. Given his incomprehensible complexity when talking about the _Argo II'_s inner workings, she suspected that his current vagueness meant he just needed someone to entertain him. She definitely didn't have time to babysit the son of Hephaestus today, but he could be exceedingly stubborn when it suited him, so she compromised.

"It'll take me five minutes to reach my office," she said, raising her chin an inch as she deigned to glance at him. "Start talking."

He brightened and immediately obeyed: "Okay, so I was talking to Piper and Jason earlier, 'cause I was working and they came to see me—some people do that 'cause _me aman_, you know, not just 'cause they need me for something. Anyway, they came to see me, and we were talking about New Rome."

Reyna's ears perked up. She hadn't expected a topic she actually cared about. "What about New Rome?"

"I was getting there," Leo said, crossing his arms in mock pain. "We were talking about New Rome, and—"

"I got that."

"If you keep interrupting me, I'm going to keep starting over," he warned. "_We. Were. Talking. About. New. Rome._ And Piper said something about how Percy and Annabeth were thinking about going to college here, and I asked why we didn't have someplace like this for Camp Half-Blood."

_Probably because Greek demigods tend to die before they get old enough for it_, Reyna thought but didn't say. That would be politically incorrect. Her politically correct alternative: raising her eyebrows infinitesimally and shrugging.

"So Jason and I thought it might be cool to build, like, a New Athens or something on Long Island!" Leo bounced forward. "Or maybe one Greek-Roman-neutral camp in the middle between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Do you think that might be a thing you might do? Or help with? Or not attack with fire?"

This surprised her, though less with the mention of Jason's input. A New Athens (or whatever the name) would be a logical investment for the Greek camp, but her perspective was torn over the idea of a middle-ground camp. On one hand, yes, it was only common sense that the two camps learn to get along by living together. But on the other hand, it might increase the odds of monster attacks, or of inter-camp fighting.

"Would it replace the two individual camps?" she asked, her brows knitting as she tried to process the possibility of leaving Camp Jupiter behind forever.

Leo's face cleared as he realized she hadn't immediately shot the idea down. "No! I mean, it _could_, but it wouldn't have to. And obviously we haven't thought through any of the details yet. I—we just thought it was a cool idea."

"Hmm." She looked back to her path, still thinking on it. "We'll see."

"Awesome," he grinned. She was prepared for three minutes of awkward silence but then he blurted, "Oh! I had another question? Nobody here's said anything about building an aerial navy, but I'm 98 percent sure I saw some of your Heph—Vulcan kids marking over designs for a flying ship."

Reyna glanced over at him, trying to discern from his expression where he was going with this. But his emotions were mixed up and illegible, and he didn't continue. "What's your question?" she prompted him.

"Uh . . . I guess, are you guys making a bunch of _Argo II_s?"

"I can't confirm or deny it at this point," she said, which was a roundabout way of (not officially) admitting that they were thinking about it. "Why, is it an issue?" At the last Senate meeting, when they had brought up the possibility for (ahem) building an aerial navy, no one had said anything about copyright problems.

"Not unless you try to set them on us," he joked. "Might be cool to see your guys' take on magic flying ships. Though none would have as cool a masthead as Festus."

She didn't comment. The fire-breathing dragon head _was_ a truly fearsome figurehead, easily of the same caliber as the classic warships'. And her pragmatic nature approved of (if she remembered correctly from Jason's description) its double-duty as the motherboard.

Then they were paused in front of her office door, and he smoothed his hair back and leaned against a column, trying desperately not to be awkward.

"This is me," she said, short and awkward, and he kind of flailed one hand in a wave before she and her hot chocolate went back inside to work.

* * *

The next morning, a quick double-knock came from the outside of Reyna's office door, and as usual she just rapped the end of her pen against the paper and called, "Come in," without breaking pace. The door swung open, and she looked up to see Jason come in with a stack of papers tucked in his arm. Involuntarily she smoothed back her braid, straightened her armor; something about his constant perfection made her question herself.

"Here's this," he said, offering her a tentative smile as he pulled them out, straightened them, and handed them to her over the desk. She took them and glanced them over: they were his third of the war gear checkup list. He'd marked exactly what needed to be replaced, detailed and flawless, just like her own. She'd expected nothing less.

"Thank you," she said with a nod, setting it beside her and Percy's thirds. Once she was done with her current project, she'd make a compilation of all the repairs they'd need to budget and execute. He hung around, and she eyed him, masking her uncertainty. Did he need something else? Did he think _she_ needed something else? Was he expecting her to make small talk? She'd never been good at it; he knew that, or at least ought to have.

"Everything okay?" she managed, which she thought was a nice balance between Concerned and Professional.

He shook himself a little and focused a little more on her. "Huh? Sorry, I was thinking about some—something else."

She set her pen down and interlocked her fingers on the mahogany desktop, interested and trying not to be. "Anything I can help with?"

He considered this. "What do you think about going out to dinner?"

This came like a happy kick to the stomach; pleased nervousness rising in her chest, she drew herself up, adjusted her seat, prepared to—

"Sorry, I mean, not you and me specifically. Like, as a date idea in general. Would it have to be fancy, or can it be casual, or . . .?" He drifted off, rubbing his jaw.

Immediately she halted, the nervousness deflating into heavy disappointment, though she never for a minute let it register on her face. Piper. She reminded herself for the thousandth time that she was happy for him, really she was. "I suppose it would depend on the girl," she said, a little stiff. "Speaking as one myself, I'd say as long as it didn't look thrown together at the last minute, anywhere on the fancy-casual spectrum would be acceptable."

"Really, you think?"

"Yes," she sighed, and the relief that saturated him made her pick up her pen again. "I should really be finishing this, if you don't mind."

"Oh, sure, no problem." He was half out the door before he turned and gave a half-wave. "See you around, Reyna."

"See you around," she echoed, but her gaze lingered on him, melancholy, and then he was gone. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she looked back to her file, but the words swam in her vision. She blinked the stinging sensation away and forced herself to put away the emotions. _This is work time_, she said to herself, firm and unyielding. _You can have self-pity time later, when your work is all done_. But a stray drop of water dripped from her chin onto the paper, spreading into a circle of darker white as it soaked in, and for a minute she let herself squeeze her eyes shut, disappointed in life and Jason but mostly in herself.

Then she wiped the stinging wetness from her eyes, reopened them, set her jaw, and signed her initials in ink over the water-soaked line.

Reyna had just set aside that form and replaced it with a notepad and the complete list of war utilities when someone knocked on the door again. She looked up sharply, missing the last stroke in her "A"—was Jason back?

"Come in?" she said, gripping the pen like it was a sword hilt. The door swung open to reveal Leo stuffing his face with five-cheese nachos.

"Ma'y'ana, 'ayna," he garbled through the chips and topping, a greeting she interpreted to be meant as _"ma__ñana, reina"_—morning, queen. Why was he so obsessed with getting her to engage with him in Spanish?

Her eyebrows drew together as she forced herself to stay in English. "Morning, Valdez. I haven't decided yet; come back later." She hoped he couldn't tell she'd almost been crying—that was the last thing she needed, for him to think she'd been shedding tears over his fate.

Leo shrugged, wiping some crumbs from his mouth. "I was actually just here to say hi. And offer you a nacho, _si uno desea_."

He held out the plate, and she eyed it, sorely tempted but not entirely convinced. The grease would doubtless get all over her pen and paper, and what was even in the toppings? For all she knew, Leo liked hot sauce and pickles on his nachos.

He read her hesitation but didn't retract the offer. "It's just tortilla chips _y queso, mi reina_."

Huh. It did smell delicious, and her stomach was grumbling under her armor. Reyna motioned for him to take a step closer as she dug through her lowest desk drawer for the napkins she kept hidden for mid-workday snacking. "I'll just take one," she said, and with a grin Leo swept into a partial kneel, holding out the plate of nachos like he thought he was a waiter in a fancy restaurant.

Reyna carefully pinched one chip from the only corner that wasn't covered in cheese, but when she lifted it up the cheese strung along 3 other chips as well. Reyna decided to just keep the extras—you know, throw herself on the bomb.

"Try it, try it," Leo demanded, staring her down. Tentatively she bit off one corner of nacho, prepared to spit the food out and comment on how mechanics should never make food—but _ay caray_, that nacho was the best snack she'd had in days. Her hand over her mouth, she wasted no time in stringing the other chips apart and eating those too.

"Good?" he prompted.

"_Really_ good," she said in surprise through the mouthful, making him beam. "Wow. Now that is a useful skill."

His held-out plate lowered, and his smile lost a few teeth. "You think I don't have any useful skills?"

_Mierda_. She shook her head no and swallowed the nachos. "No, that's not what I meant, I meant as opposed to someone else, theoretically, who maybe couldn't cook or . . ." She was not helping herself. Trailing off, she gave up trying to make her words sound good. "I guess I didn't expect you to be able to cook."

"Oh, that's not cooking. I can't cook actual food. Just snack variants." He shrugged like it wasn't a real issue.

The corners of her lips twitched upwards. "Did you need something, or did you just come by to feed a hungry praetor?"

Leo set down the plate between them and leaned against the desk. "Nah—none of the centurions were available to keep an eye on the bad boy supreme, so since I'm not really feeling house arrest, I thought I'd come see if you had alternate instructions. And, you know, to say hi and feed a lovely, hungry praetor lady."

It was a good thing for Leo that her lie-detector dogs were in the kennel today. Reyna felt her face go a little warm at the nod to her (debatable) attractiveness, but her complexion was dark enough that, thank the gods, she know the blush wouldn't be visible. Back to the topic at hand: "Did you ask Percy or Jason?"

"Couldn't find either of them."

Ah. This did pose a problem. "Well, I certainly can't have you running around causing trouble in my camp," she mused.

"My awesome might distract the peasant-folk," he agreed.

She breathed out short through her nose—almost a laugh, but not quite—and continued, "And I definitely don't want you messing around on your warship without supervision. So I guess for now . . ." Oh, gods. ". . . you can stay here with me."

Surprise flitted across his face, replaced swiftly by an almost childish glee. Before he could start anything, she set aside her pen and asked, "How's your work coming?" Just a moment's break couldn't hurt. And more important, if he didn't get a little one-on-one attention, she suspected he might be reduced to playing practical jokes in her office.

Leo brightened up considerably. "It's going really well! Festus was for the last day pitching a fit about his cracked transmitter, but I found a spare one in one of your camper's stuff—_no te preocupes_, I asked first—and ever since I installed that, he's been great and I actually fixed a carburetor in _half_ the time it normally takes me!"

"Congratulations," she replied, her tone bland. His enthusiasm was commendable, but she really had no idea what he was going on about. A conversation on war tactics and how to avoid feelings would be more up her alley. "Next you'll be telling me your thingamabob skitzafritzed, and I just don't think I can handle the shock."

Laughter bubbled out of him, and he cocked his head and looked at her a little oddly. "You made a funny?"

It had only felt proper. Her eyebrows drew together a little. "Don't expect it to happen again," she shrugged as she picked up her pen again and began to draft her complete list of Repairs To Budget For. Her own section was first, so she moved efficiently through her immaculate handwriting. She was almost through page five when she felt the presence behind her.

"Do you ever smile?" Leo asked, hanging over Reyna's shoulder as she worked. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes or, worse, make a joking reply that he might interpret as encouragement.

"Only if there's something around worth smiling at," she replied, her tone unamused but at least not icy. That was almost friendly, and more than most people would ask of her, but _this_ person kept at her, looking for her sense of humor. Luckily she'd spent so long keeping it under lock and key that it wasn't terribly difficult to ignore him. Of course, it would have been easier had he left her alone.

"What are your thoughts on puns?" he asked contemplatively. As if Leo Valdez could ever even dream of being contemplative.

"I think the world is better off without them." Which was 90 percent lie. The 10 percent truth was the fact that she made a strange snerking sound when she laughed at them, so really it was better for the entire world if she never had to hear them.

"Really? I think seven days without any punning makes one weak," he said, straight-faced, and it took her a second to realize _he_ was punning.

But she'd heard that one before. "I need silence to work," she said shortly.

"A grenade thrown into a French kitchen could result in Linoleum Blownapart."

She gritted her teeth. That way if her lips twitched, she could pass it off as extended facial frustration.

"Alcohol and calculus don't mix, so don't drink and derive."

"You realize I don't have to keep you around."

"I suppose that's true," he mused, and then he fell silent for a few peaceful minutes. And then: "Did you hear about the crime that happened in the parking garage? It was wrong on so many levels."

"Leave," she burst out, hiding a chuckle with a heavy sigh as she threw her hand toward the door. He cocked his head again, and she pressed her lips together. "I'm very serious. Get out. I need to work. Go find Percy or Jason, and come back tomorrow at noon."

"Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands and backing out, but before he was gone he added, "With the apocalypse approaching, Armageddon out of here."

Thankfully he swung out the door and didn't see her lips twitch upward even while being pressed together. Hmm. She had very nearly figured out how to handle Leo, and she was going to regret this decision; she could just feel it.

* * *

The next day, one day late to her estimated deadline, Reyna had the dubious pleasure of waking up at five o'clock to the clanging of two metal dogs trying to tear each other apart. Even when she separated them into their cages (had she forgotten to drop both locks last night?) they kept banging against the frames, so she had to take them to a Vulcan mechanic and then—when that failed to solve anything—to take him to the infirmary and cart Aurum and Argentum to work with her.

It was, at that point, six in the morning. If she wasn't running, that was far too early to be up.

She struggled to get work done with two ornery automatons causing trouble, but she managed well enough, though she kept hoping they'd wear themselves out and go into sleep mode. She knew the Vulcan kids could initiate that mode, but they wouldn't let her mess with the dogs' mechanical inner workings, so even though she might be able to guess at it, she didn't want to accidentally make the problem worse or even cause permanent damage. Which meant the dogs only got more irritable as the morning wore on, and she had no good way of fixing it.

Noon came and went, with no break for lunch. She didn't trust her dogs to be alone for that long. About two o'clock in the afternoon, Reyna was drafting a response to a question about legionnaire status when someone knocked on her door.

"Come in," she called, glancing up to see what brave soul had come to see her. Maybe by the grace of the gods, a better mechanic? She crossed her ankles under the table, and Aurum snapped at her half-heartedly, earning a firm "_no_." He and his brother sat up as the door creaked open to reveal Leo, who was putting a lot of effort into his "happy and carefree" mode today. Probably a defense mechanism, since he was two hours late.

"You called, milady?" he asked, tugging on his suspenders, but when Argentum growled the dog stole his attention.

Reyna half-rose from her seat. "I did. For you to come at noon. I wanted to—excuse me?"

Leo had sunk to his haunches and was holding out his hand to the dogs, neither of whom looked particularly thrilled to meet him, if the angry red gleam in their eyes was any indication. She started to warn him, "I really wouldn't—" But the next instant Leo was up close and personal with her greyhounds, rubbing them behind the ears and trailing his fingers along their mechanisms with obvious curiosity, and they did nothing except whine a little bit. As he pulled a tiny wrench, a screwdriver, and some other tool she couldn't name out of his tool belt, he pressed along Aurum's neck and then manipulated something so that the dog froze in sleep mode. He opened up a neck panel, poked around inside until something went _clink_, and then when he closed it up and restarted Aurum, the dog's tail pounded the floor. Grinning a little to himself, he did the same repair on Argentum and received the same response. The now-congenial dogs head-butted the son of Hephaestus, demanding more of his attention, specifically the rubbing behind the ears.

Reyna was staring, frozen in shock, when eventually Leo got back to his feet. He looked back at her, clearly self-conscious, probably waiting for her to throw something at him. "Hope that helps," he offered, though it came out more like a question.

"How did you do that?"

"Oh, that was the easiest automaton fix I've ever done, just an automator cog loose in the—"

"That's not what I meant. How did you fix them without getting _killed_?"

Leo shrugged, grinned, turned a sight shade of pink. "What can I say, machines love me. Better than people do, most of the time."

She eyed him and shook her head. "No, they've been tetchy all day. They bit a Vulcan mechanic twice on the arm, and they were even starting to snap at _me_. There is no logical reason why they would like you so well, take so quickly to you."

He held up his hands, palms up. "My skills do defy logic, pretty praetor lady. It's best not to question it."

Reyna had a good sense for what battles were worth pursuing, and this was not one of them. Exhaling, she filed that tidbit away and motioned with two fingers for Leo to have a seat. He lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of her desk, and his legs began to jitter as he and she stared at each other. She crinkled her nose at an unexpected new smell—"Is something burning?"

"No!" he yelped, his hands flying to his hair. As he patted his curls, the slight smell of smoke faded away. She put this away for later reflection as well. "Did you need me for something, or did you just miss me?" he prompted, hasty to change the subject.

"_Sí, te extrañé_." She slipped into sarcastic Spanish accidentally—perhaps having another Spanish speaker around would be more trouble than she had anticipated. No matter—he had brightened far too much, so she made a conscious return to English. "No, I called you here because I've decided what I'm going to do with you."

His grin froze in place, carefully carefree. "And the verdict is . . .?"

She rested her chin in one hand and clicked her nails against the mahogany desktop. "My first thought was, of course, execution," she said, which wasn't really an answer. "And if not for your part in the war with Gaea, rest assured that's certainly what you would have earned."

This did not seem to comfort Leo.

"So my next thought was banishment," she continued. "That way I don't incur anyone's wrath by killing you, but I still don't have to see you ever again."

His eyes didn't leave hers, yet something in his attitude deflated. Was he blanching?

"But it would be foolhardy of me to pretend you don't have your uses," she finished, earning a sharp intake of air from him. "So you can stay, for now. I'm going to have you keep working on reconstruction, and maybe help my Romans develop that aerial navy."

Leo began to jitter again, almost a whole-body movement, and the warmth reentered his eyes and smile. He reached for her like he wanted to hug her; she leaned backward, out of reach. "Thank you so much, Reyna, _dios mio_, you're so awesome, _gracias gracias gracias_, I'll be good, I swear, no bombings or anything—"

"Don't read too much into it," she shrugged it off, though she would have been lying if she said she wasn't a little bit pleased to be appreciated. "It was a diplomatic decision made based on logic and reason."

"And grace," he insisted. "And awesomeness."

She cocked her head a quarter of an inch and pursed her lips, but didn't disagree. "All right, perhaps a bit of those too. But—" He tried to start praising her again, and she talked over him. "—But I have work to do right now, so you, leave."

Grinning and giddy, Leo left with strings of Spanish on his tongue, praising her wisdom and leaderliness and also the perfection of her facial features. It was . . . as much as she hated to admit it, it _was_ nice to be appreciated. She shook her head, suppressing the barest hint of a smile, and turned back to her paperwork. It wasn't until her greyhounds started pawing at the door, whining for the mechanic to reappear, that it occurred to her that they had a nearly flawless sense of character.


	2. Part Two

_A/N: This is still a **spoiler-free** story, as it was written before I read HoH and so is still factually continuing in my pre-HoH–established storyline._

* * *

Reyna was out running with the dogs Friday morning when they veered off the sidewalk and began hightailing it toward the coffee shop. She adjusted her gait to the uneven grass, reaching into longer, harder strides and pumping her arms for momentum, but she didn't try to redirect the dogs just yet—it would be a good challenge to use the last of her energy to keep up with them as they chased whatever had caught their eye. She assumed it was a squirrel or loose robot bird or something; then she saw Leo standing in line with Piper and Jason for coffee.

He noticed her before his coffeemates did. "_Reina!_" he called, grinning as he threw a hand up to wave her over, but the gesture was unnecessary: Aurum and Argentum were headed for him at full speed, and she was just barely managing to keep up. By the grace of the gods, they stopped before they bowled all three coffeeshop-goers over.

"Morning," Reyna gasped, balling her fists on her hips and doubling over so she could catch her breath while the dogs jumped up on Leo. Her face was hot, her entire body slick with sweat, and she couldn't help but regret that she had run into them before she could cool down and take a frigid shower. The three at least had the decency not to comment on how awful she looked.

"Keeping up the routine, I see," Jason said, earning a slightly perturbed look from Piper, and Reyna only nodded. Catching her breath and not cramping up were more important than making conversation. She flexed her calves, went up on tiptoes and then back on her heels. Sharp cramps shocked up her legs anyway—maybe the extra-hard stretch hadn't been such a great idea. Note to self.

Leo picked up on her soreness. "Hey, if you need a good masseur, you should be aware I run about ten degrees above average," he grinned, wiggling his fingers in her direction as he pushed the dogs back onto all fours.

She stared at him in mixed disbelief and surprise. "If I want your hands on my body, believe me, I will ask for it," she said in her most clipped, _never in a million years_ tone, belied by her head tilting just an inch to the side.

He shrugged, still grinning and undeterred. Jason looked stunned by the veiled informality of the exchange, but Piper tugged both the boys forward to order their drinks. Reyna still felt disgusting, although her breathing was at least a little less raspy now, so she backed up a few steps and tugged on Aurum and Argentum's leashes. "I think we're going to leave. Finish up the run. I'll see you guys later." For a final grasp at dignity she nodded at them before she half-dragged the dogs back into the run, turning to make her way back toward her villa. She almost missed the drop in Leo's expression when she turned from him, and she chose to believe he would only miss the dogs.

* * *

By afternoon the dogs were barking, the legionnaires were rowdy, Reyna had a headache piercing the base of her skull (not to mention major cramps shooting up her legs whenever she moved), and Jason and Piper were getting reacquainted with the backs of each other's throats. It was not one of Reyna's more stellar days, so when someone handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate, she had to suppress a sigh of relief. "Thanks," she said, honest warmth in her voice and her stomach as she took a sip.

"You're welcome," a male voice replied, and the cup was still at her lips when she turned in surprise to see Leo standing behind her, looking pleased with himself. His face dropped a bit when she popped off the lid and sniffed the liquid suspiciously. "There's nothing bad in it!" he protested. "No oil, nothing. I washed my hands just for you. _Dios mio, reina_, I'd think you didn't trust me."

"I don't," she said, her tone just a little arched, enough to brighten him back up. She wanted to reprimand herself for encouraging him, but looking at him, she couldn't quite bring herself to regret it.

Because Reyna was a sucker for self-punishment, though, her gaze drifted back to her fellow praetor and his girlfriend, the literal child of love and beauty. How _en infierno_ was she supposed to have competed with that? She took a longer sip from her chocolate, this one less reassuring than the first. She was a daughter of war—strong, scarred, serious—with no charming voice or kaleidoscope eyes to speak of. A sword was more useful for stopping a man's heart than for winning it. And no matter how hard she tried, there was simply no way in Pluto she would ever be a true opponent in this particular arena. Was it even worth trying anymore? _Of course it's worth trying_, she immediately reprimanded herself, but it felt forced. How long had she been holding onto this, now?

"Did I ever tell you about the capacitor I was working on?" When she glanced at Leo, he was looking in the same direction as she was, a little mottled despite all his bravado. She shook her head no, and he turned toward her. "He kissed the diode, 'cause he just couldn't resistor."

A pun. One that, it seemed, he had chosen as a bridge from the situation to conversation. One corner of her lips twitched upward, reluctantly, and he grinned.

"What do you do with yourself when you don't have people around to bother?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Think of other ways to bother them, mostly."

"I never would have guessed." She looked away, out at the trees instead of at anyone in particular, and drank from her chocolate to hide her small smile.

"You don't have to look," he said suddenly, and she turned back to him in surprise, thumbing a dash of whipped cream from her bottom lip.

"Sorry?"

"You don't have to look at them if they bother you," he repeated, glaring at his feet, and even though he didn't name names, she knew exactly who he meant. He continued, the words tumbling out of him like he'd waited too long to say them: "_Ay, Dios mío, reina,_ you're beautiful and powerful and frickin' awesome, but you're going to be miserable if you just stand around being lonely. Look at Annabeth, she's a leader like you, and scary like you can be, _más que el diablo_, and even when Percy was missing she kept at stuff."

She would never have expected that out of his mouth a month ago. The war had changed him, more deeply than most of the others. "Let me guess where you're headed with this," she said drily: "the first step to a healthy recovery is to go on a romantic date with you."

"That'd be awesome," Leo admitted with a half-grin, planting his hands on his hips, "but geez, just do whatever makes you happy. I vote for a pizza party, but maybe running works for you athletic people. Stick it to the man, and all that."

"Is this the advice you give yourself every time a girl doesn't work out?"

"Eh, do as I say, not as I do."

She laughed a little, small but honest. Then: "Did that coffee do something to your brain? That was all way too philosophical for you on any other day."

He laughed, which surprised her. She was funny? "I think I've spent too much time with Annabeth recently. And with Jason. She's all I See Through You, and he's all Let's Talk About Our Emotions. Blend 'em, and you get Deep Philosophical Leo."

She pretended to toast him. "Congratulations. You have officially surprised a praetor of the Twelfth Legion."

He swept her a bow, accidentally knocked someone on the waist when he flung his hand backward. "I'd like to thank the academy," he sniffled, melodramatically wiping an imaginary tear from one eye. She laughed in a _kkhh_ sound and drank some more of her perfectly warm chocolate, commenting that she didn't know what kind of academy would take him but bless them for it. But he had had a point: she was tired of laying herself open with no reciprocation, tired of standing around wishing, tired of pining.

So Saturday morning she decided that it would be finished, one way or the other._ Today is the day_, Reyna decided as she braided her hair. She was going to be done pretending, done staying quiet. She was a daughter of war—she wouldn't run from a confrontation. For the first time she was going to go right up to Jason (they were both praetors, she could do that), take him aside, and say in her Honest But Controlled voice, _I like you, I've liked you for __**years**__, and I thought you knew but can we talk about it?_ And in her head he responded with a concerned nod, and they sat down on a bench together with coffee, and he put his hand on her knee as, perfectly composed, she explained her feelings toward him—

Nodding fiercely at her reflection in the mirror, she straightened her clothes. Plain jeans and a loose purple SPQR T-shirt, no armor. It might help her make her point better, even if it made her feel vulnerable—no, _because_ it made her vulnerable.

She smoothed a stray hair back into place, lifted her chin, and walked out the front door and around the corner to the praetors' offices. The battle plan: she would grab a hot chocolate for fortitude, and then she'd go back to the praetors' offices to find Jason and sort this mess out, once and for all. She was done carrying a torch if he wasn't willing to take it.

Luckily it was early on a Saturday morning, meaning no one was out yet—she didn't have to glide as smoothly as usual; her back could curve, her chin lower. The five-minute walk to the coffee shop was a small respite from expectations, others' and her own. But the moment she rounded the corner to get her chocolate, expectations truly did disappear. Two people were in fact out this early: Jason and Piper were sitting at her favorite table.

Reyna clenched one fist and evaluated the field. _A minute before is worth an hour after_, Hylla used to say. It was just the three of them out here; even the barista had gone inside for a minute. She could march forward and demand he talk to her alone now, but it looked like they were here on a date, so not only would that be spectacularly ill-mannered, it'd also be very likely unsuccessful. Better to wait. They hadn't seen her yet.

The reason for this, she realized after a moment, was glaringly obvious: they were too busy with each other. Not kissing, for once, at least—just smiling, laughing, talking in an undertone, so enwrapped in the other's presence that nothing else, it seemed, mattered. Strange. It occurred to her that she hardly ever saw the two of them together when they weren't swapping spit. Here, when they weren't teasing each other into blushing, they fell into companionable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence with faint smiles still tugging on their faces.

And Jason, sweet oblivious Jason, stared at the daughter of Aphrodite like he'd never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. And it was in that moment that Reyna realized that, for as close as she and he had been, he had never once looked at her like that.

"Your usual, Reyna?" someone asked, making her jump even though it hadn't been a loud question. She looked over to find that the barista had reappeared.

At the sound of her name, Jason and Piper looked over, looking surprised to see anyone else out and about. Jason threw her a wave, which she returned awkwardly. "Uh, no, I'll come back later," she said to the barista, turning in a jolt to make her way back to her villa.

This was a losing battle. It had been for a long time.

Without thinking she burst through her own front door and in a matter of seconds had tugged off her jeans and flats for shorts and her running shoes. The dogs were in the kennel, but to be honest she didn't want to get them. She just needed to think. She grabbed a full water bottle from the fridge out of habit and left.

Sparing only a few seconds for stretching, she pounded onto the grass at full speed, her braid and her shoulders swinging in tandem. Her vision tunneled so that all she could see was the ground in front of her, everything else blurring like she'd hit warp speed. For a brief moment, the familiar feel of her soles pushing her onto her toes and rolling her forward into a sprint was enough. The effort she put into elongating her strides and maintaining decent breathing in the crisp fall air distracted her, briefly. She tried to focus on the feel of the breeze on her face, the rolling dirt under her feet, but she didn't even get two miles before the breeze was burning her throat and her feet were hitting the ground too hard.

_Mierda_. Years—_years_—of pining. It was done.

Reyna pressed herself harder into the run, ignoring the pain in her throat. She ducked under a low-hanging tree branch and breathed out long through her lips. Maybe if she kept her oxygen levels high, she could last longer without slowing to catch her breath. It was just a little pathetic since she was only running laps around camp, but she just wanted to run, to leave really, and running was the closest she could come to that.

Oh—she really couldn't breathe now. She stumbled against a tree and put her hands on her head, slowing to a brisk walk just for now. Her legs and arms tingled with the sudden stop, the blood suddenly flowing more quickly. She needed to cough but couldn't quite summon enough air to do it, so she settled for thin, raspy, short exhales.

She was done, 1000 percent done, pining for Jason. She'd had a strong instinct it wouldn't work out, and she'd held on anyway, and where had that gotten her? Long workdays and a self-pity sprint. This run was the last of it. She would leave her infatuation in the past, where it belonged.

Though her lungs still burned for more air, and her throat for warmer air, Reyna pushed herself back into the run, glaring at the grass in front of her so that she could ignore the burning in her eyes as well.

The terrain began to slope uphill a bit, just enough that she could feel it, but she didn't let herself break pace. Instead she maintained her breathing pattern (raspy and uncoughable though it was), 1-2 breathing in big, 1 breathing out sharp. She came around the far east edge of camp, past New Rome and Temple Hill, and kept going, now heading back to the Principia. No matter how hard she ran herself, she decided, she would make it all the way past and around the praetors' villas before she stopped again.

So despite the slight elevation and the increasing bumpiness of the dirt under the grass, Reyna surged with the wind, her feet pounding and rolling with the bumps, her face hot, her calves starting to cramp up just a little. She shook her head _no no no_, like her body could hear and obey her thoughts, because if she was going to survive this she needed to make it past the villas, there was no other way.

Not breaking pace, she popped the lid off the water bottle with her teeth and squirted the cold water into the back of her throat, which helped a little. She swallowed, closing her eyes and struggling to reopen them, and when she tried to cough she still couldn't summon enough air for it. But she kept going, pressed forward, turning right again to make her way along the back of the Principia.

It was rocky back here. Her calves stung even more now, and even though she squirted more water into her mouth she was losing steam: when she blinked, her eyelids wanted to stay closed, lingering black, and her ankles were rolling a bit with the ground. Every smooth patch of land called for her; she ached to simply let her legs give out under her and collapse here alone behind the Principia—but she couldn't, not yet. Jason's villa was mere yards away.

So despite every muscle in her body screaming against it, Reyna forced herself to pound out one stride, then another, and continue on until she was wheezing but past the villas. Her breathing was totally out of order, and she stumbled twice before she was out of range.

Then, a spare rock catching her sole at a bad angle, she felt her legs crumple under her, hit the grass hard on her knees, and rolled into a fetal position. Blood tingled in every inch of her; her legs and lungs and throat felt like they could explode into flames. She should have stretched more, should have paced herself; she would regret that for the next few days. Her forehead resting in the dirt, she actually began to dry heave—or rather, _attempt_ to dry heave, as she felt like all air had left her lungs.

"Whoa, are you okay?" A male voice, sounding concerned, spoke as someone trotted up from the direction of the city. She forced herself to roll over onto her side so she could look up: it was Leo. Of course it was Leo. The only member of his trio she hadn't had the pain of encountering yet today. She opened her mouth to snap at him, but all that came out was a thin wheeze.

"_Carajo_, you look awful. Does exercise usually do this to you?" he asked, trying for a joke, but she was still struggling to breathe evenly. He crouched down beside her. "You need help?"

"No," she managed, her tone sharp, but the effort started up the thin, ineffective coughs again, and she turned away.

Leo's eyebrows drew together. "That sounds pretty bad," he worried, and without asking permission he reached for her arm, lifted it (and her) up, and looped it over his shoulders. "Come on, drink some more of that water, and let me help you back to your place."

"I need to stretch," she insisted, feeling like deadweight on him. _I probably weigh more than he does_, she considered in a brief moment of normalcy. Ever accommodating, he set her back down and watched carefully as she spread and leaned over her legs, wincing as she reached for her toes and rubbed the spasming/shocking muscles on her left leg. Ugh, she would definitely regret this.

After another long blink she reopened her eyes to find Leo settling down by her right leg and holding up his hands. "Need any help?" he offered. It didn't seem to be a come-on this time, if his slight blush was any indication.

She eyed him. She had to admit, she was a little bit suspicious, but her leg did ache something awful. "You any good?" she asked finally, and when he shrugged _yes_ she gave a regal nod, or as regal a nod as you can give when you're hot and sweaty and wheezing and cramping up like nobody's business.

But then Leo pressed his hand to her calf, and oh, she had to keep herself from sighing in relief. His fingers were thin but warm, warmer than the normal person's, and to be honest the pressure from him was several times better than the hot packs she was used to using after rough runs.

"Good?" he asked, tentative, hopeful.

She murmured a quick "mm-hmm" and had to actively return to working her left leg back to usability. As she rubbed the heel of her hand hard along her stiff calf muscles, she focused on evening out her breathing. More specifically, she did _not_ focus on Leo's hot hands massaging her right leg to perfection.

After another minute of good flexing and stretching and rubbing, Reyna declared herself all right to walk back to her villa, and although she had half-expected Leo to take the opportunity to get back to doing something interesting, he helped her up and loped along beside her as she walked, slowly and painfully, back towards the Via Principalis.

"What were you running so hard for?" he asked, hooking his thumbs on his tool belt.

She screwed her face up in something like a smile, maybe closer to a grimace. "It was an educational day."

"It's nine in the morning."

"It was an educational morning, then." She refused to give him any other information; it wasn't really his business, and besides, she would rather not rehash the details of her pathetic failure of a love life, even if the disappointing "education" _had_ been the push she needed to move on.

Leo didn't seemed terribly bothered at being kept in the dark. "Man, I knew there was a reason I didn't exercise. That looked nasty."

"It's not usually so bad," she allowed. "I didn't pace myself very well today."

He shook his head, letting his curls bounce everywhere. "Yeah, over by the ice cream shop, I saw you go past the first time, and then you were back so friggin' fast. I was really impressed until you fell over," he teased, grinning at her.

She pressed her lips together against a smile. "So you came over to see the _tonta_ who ran herself so hard she got sick?"

"No, I wanted to make sure you hadn't _died_ or anything." Leo struck a ridiculous pose, sticking his scrawny chest out and planting his fists on his hips. "It was my time to be a hero!" he announced, and at that she did laugh a little, looking away like he might not hear it that way. But when she looked back at him, he was practically glowing.

Something he'd mentioned earlier came back to her. "You were getting ice cream?" she asked. "I believe you pointed out it's nine o'clock in the morning."

"Every hour is happy hour if you have ice cream," he countered.

Her stomach rumbled a little at the thought; it occurred to her that she had not only passed on hot chocolate but also forgotten breakfast, which was probably contributing to her poor performance. And she happened to be aware that the ice cream shop had Belgian chocolate chocolate Häagen-Dazs in stock this week, maybe she could—no. Bad Reyna. She needed _healthy_ snacks after a workout. She could get ice cream later.

The two of them stepped onto her porch, and without thinking Reyna held the door open for Leo. He blinked, surprised, but reached for it and followed her inside, lowering himself onto the couch when she went straight for the kitchen. "Where are your dogs?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the buzz of the fridge and the banging of her opening and shutting cabinet doors.

"Kennel." Not looking up from preparing her food, she pointed one finger to the door on the opposite wall, which led to her bedroom and, inside, the dog cages.

"Ah." He didn't seem to know how to respond to that, but it turned out he didn't need to say anything else—the dogs heard his voice and began to paw at the cages, rattling metal against metal.

"_Ay caray_," she mumbled. If they broke another pair of cages, she was going to go broke. Quickly she dropped a handful of blueberries and strawberry slices into her cup of vanilla yogurt and set it aside, striding as quickly as she could (on anyone else, she would have called it hobbling) to her bedroom to let the dogs out. "Take cover," she warned Leo just before she unlatched the cage doors, and two seconds later her greyhounds were silver and gold blurs headed right for the couch. She followed them half as quickly, picking her yogurt up from the counter on her way. By the time she sat down, the only parts of Leo that were visible were his hair and one leg. The dogs, it appeared, truly had gotten attached. Smiling ever so slightly, she tucked her legs over the back of the couch and settled into the crook of the armrest to take the first bite of her post-workout snack.

Leo wriggled halfway out from under the dogs, shoving Aurum out of his face when the dog tried to cough friendly flecks of oil onto him in greeting. "You know—_unh!_" he said, grunting as Argentum stepped on his stomach, "a little birdy named everyone ever has mentioned your dogs are, like, evil incarnate. Have you mentioned this, by any chance, to the _dogs_?"

Reyna dug up a big spoonful of fruit and yogurt. "It's the strangest thing," she admitted, lazily flexing her feet. "They haven't warmed up to anyone other than me in, well, ever. Maybe they like you because your dad made them."

"Or maybe because I'm the awesomest, most—ugh." Aurum hacked a big wad of oil right into Leo's mouth, which effectively shut up his joking bravado.

A small smile pulled at Reyna's lips even around her spoon. "Whatever the reason—they do like you." She hesitated before asking, "Would you mind taking over their repairs? While you're here, I mean. My life would be so much easier if I could stop filling out biweekly 'my dogs maimed another camper' paperwork."

"Maimings?" he echoed uncertainly.

The dogs barked like they were pleased with themselves.

Reyna shot them a benign stink-eye. "They get testy when most people try to mess with their innards, which personally I can't fault them for. And it's never been anything permanent." She reconsidered. "Well, there was that one time. But he was a real _capullo_, he deserved it."

Leo paled a little bit, but Argentum head-butted him playfully in the chest and cocked his head for more ear rubs. "I dunno, _reina_. I don't want to get maimed. I need to stay in one piece for all the ladies waiting to have a chance at me."

"Oh." Reyna hadn't realized she was opening herself up until the rejection stung her, like a nicely-meant slap in the face. Immediately, instinctively, she pulled her legs off the back of the couch, straightened her posture, closed off her expression. Ugh, she was an idiot. "No, sure, that's fine, I totally understand," she said, and started to push herself to her feet, but the dogs' ears lowered and Leo reached out and caught her by the arm.

"Sit down," he said, his brow crinkling and his eyes searching her face. He'd caught the change in her manner. Reluctantly she sank back onto the couch. "I can try my hand at them," he offered. "I mean, they haven't tried to kill me yet, so that's gotta be a good sign, right?"

Her eyes were on his arm where he still held her. Halfheartedly she tried to pull away, and she wasn't totally sure if she was pleased or not when he realized this and released her. "No, really, if you aren't comfortable—" she started.

"I'm up for trying," he insisted, more forcefully now, and a rebellious light entered his eyes. "Who knows, it could make a cool story for around the campfire: 'scrawny repair boy tames homicidal automaton dogs.' I can hear the fangirls now." He grinned at her.

She looked for fear in his face, or obligation, but couldn't find either. And the fangirls reference, as always, was more joking and wishful thinking than serious expectation. She waited for a "just kidding, your dogs would kill me and I'm not down with that!" but none came. So, then . . . did he really want to risk taking care of her dogs . . . just to make her happy? "Are you sure?" she pressed him. "It's really all right if you don't want to do it."

The dogs snuggled into him, and he faded from a silly grin to a smaller, more serious smile. "I am here whenever you need me," he said, and her own brow creased, because there was no way he meant it in the all-encompassing way it came across.

"Thanks, I'll . . . let you know when I want to make their appointment," she said, shifting uncomfortably and looking away as she scooped out the last bite of fruit and yogurt. "But, er, I need to shower and stuff, so you should probably leave." The getting clean part would be nice, but to be honest she really just needed the time alone, with icy cold water pounding on her back and wet hair dripping into her eyes. Maybe it would help her figure out whatever had just happened in the last half hour, the last week, the last year. The run had helped a little, but whatever emotions she had been feeling, was feeling now, was supposed to be feeling, were all muddled and knotted in her middle, and having him here looking at her like that wasn't clarifying anything.

So Leo nodded, quiet for once, and disentangled himself from dogs and loped out of the villa, lingering at the door. Aurum whined, his head on his paws, and Reyna rubbed him absently behind the ears.

* * *

On Sunday it rained, and Reyna had laundry and cleaning to do, so she decided to stay in for the day. It wasn't a work day—the camp could handle itself for 24 hours.

Aurum and Argentum didn't like being cooped up inside, but they at least stayed docile so long as she threw their structurally enhanced tennis balls whenever they brought them to her. This was harder at some times than at others, such as when her arms were piled high with dishes and she couldn't see her feet but the dogs wanted a ball thrown _now_.

By eleven her stomach was grumbling, so she plugged in her griddle and, as it was heating up, played with the dogs with one hand and picked ingredients out of the cabinets with the other. She was spraying canola oil on the griddle when, over the patter of rain on the roof and windows, she heard someone knock on the front door. Aurum froze, the ball in his mouth and Argentum crawling over him, and narrowed his eyes at the unknown visitor. Argentum rumbled uncertainly, flopping off his brother to prepare for Demon Guard mode, which Reyna was 98 percent certain _was_ an actual mode in her automatons, even if the Vulcan mechanics couldn't turn it on and off. She waved for them to quiet as she set the can of spray oil down, walked out of the kitchen and through the living room, and opened the door to find pouring rain and Leo in rainboots and an umbrella, his hair even crazier than usual from the humidity.

"It's raining," he said drily.

"So I hear," she replied. A glob of water dripped from the umbrella onto his back, and he jumped with a grimace. She pressed her lips together in a smile. "You want to come in?"

He screwed up his face in a melodramatic picture of pain. "_Por favor_."

Reyna stepped back and held the door open; Leo had only shaken off one boot before he had to stave off his two biggest fans. "Ow! Down!" he yelped in a half-laugh, making Reyna chuckle to herself as she went back to the hot griddle. When he had fended the dogs back onto all fours, he joined her, Aurum and Argentum at his heels. "So, did that run totally kill you or what?" he teased, in a way that didn't feel mean. "I noticed you weren't at breakfast or lunch."

She gestured at her clothes as she dumped select vegetables onto the popping oil: she wore an SPQR tank top and sweatpants. "Clearly I was not planning on going out today. The run ended up fine. It's just that it's raining—I don't like being wet or cold."

He nodded emphatically, agreeing, "It is kind of chilly." It occurred to her that he probably felt the cold even more fiercely than she did, since his internal body temperature was higher than hers. Then he waggled his eyebrows: "Don't worry, I can heat you up."

Startled at the teasing come-on, she snorted and flipped the broccoli. In an effortful change of subject, she asked, "Have you had lunch yet?" one second before it occurred to her that of course he had, five seconds ago he said that he didn't see her there. She steeled herself for a cutting remark on her inattention, but none came.

"Yeah, but I always have room for more," he joked, sticking out his stomach and rubbing it. "Especially if you're offering to make it. Won't be scrawny anymore. Just call me Gordo Leo."

Fat Leo. "Right." She rolled her eyes but the tugging smile didn't leave her face. "Really, though, if you want some, I'm making plenty. It's probably much healthier than whatever you had."

He brightened at the teasing in her tone, doubtless sensing an opportunity for banter. "I'm very personally offended by that, _reina_. I'll have you know that I had two whole green beans on my plate."

"Did you actually eat them?"

"Gross, no."

"Nutrition doesn't work by osmosis, unfortunately for you." She glanced at him as she poured water over the vegetables, their eyes meeting as steam exploding over her hand. She jerked her hand back and returned to scooting the veggies around.

"You know, if you make meal-y things and I make snack-y things, we basically complete each other," Leo said, leaning against the counter and rubbing Aurum behind the ears. She felt her cheeks warm and pursed her lips, ignoring the comment. He began to sing, in a very off-key falsetto: "You can be the peanut butter to my jelly—"

Caught off guard by his silliness, Reyna's suppressed laugh became a _snerk_ as she twisted away, trying to keep her shoulders from shaking. Then when she had control of herself, she glanced back his way, imagined that horribly out-of-tune love song, and began to laugh again.

"It wasn't that ba—okay, it was," he said with a grin. "My impressive skills do not include serenading pretty ladies."

Still smiling, she snorted and shook her head as she began to scoop the vegetables off the griddle and onto two plates. "Might have a hard time finding a job there, sorry." She turned off the griddle and began to sprinkle rosemary and basil over the food.

He was quiet for a moment, inspecting her and the food, and then he proposed, "Is this meal vegetarian? Not adding meat would be a missed steak."

She _snerk_ed again. It occurred to her that this was a _pun_-avoidable reaction around him and his jokes. "Stop," she ordered, handing him his plate and a fork. "You don't want to hear me laugh. Or pun."

"Challenge accepted, _mi reina_. Quick pole—north or south?"

"Rick Astley will let you borrow any movie from his Pixar collection except one. He's never gonna give you Up."

"Make little things count. Teach midgets math."

"I changed my iPod's name to Titanic. It's syncing now."

"How does Moses make his coffee? Hebrews it."

"I used to be a banker, but then I lost interest."

"I used to think I was indecisive, but now I'm not so sure."

"I dropped out of Communism class because of bad Marx."

Leo grinned. "You're an excellent punster, Reyna. Let no one tell you otherwise."

Reyna laughed and shook her head, lifting herself up to sit on the counter and eat her lunch from there. She found she missed the lilt on the _R_ in her name, the Spanish context that only he appreciated. "I don't think so, but thank you anyway." She gestured to his plate with her fork. "Try it, let me know how it is."

Obediently he speared a slice of pepper and a broccoli head and stuck them into his mouth. "Shooper good," he said immediately through the mouthful, his eyebrows raising like he was surprised she could do such a thing. "How?"

"Magic," she said lightly, making _him_ snerk for once. She took a thoughtful bite of her seasoned veggies and, after a moment, said aloud, "You know, your nachos were pretty mind-boggling too. I wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to bear such gifts again while I was working. If you wanted to, or happened to be in the area." She met his gaze and raised her eyebrows in mirror image of him. "Theoretically."

"What if I don't have any nachos?" he asked.

She shrugged. "As long as you don't try to pun me out of working, I might not make you leave."

Leo was practically glowing.

_**-line-**_

Monday had been a long day—longer with no visitors. Headache pounding in her temples, Reyna glanced at the clock again. Five til seven. The sun was going down outside her window. She'd barely made a dent in the paperwork, and Leo hadn't shown up once. Allowing herself one sigh, she twirled her pen in her fingers and turned back to initial Hazel Levesque's leave-of-absence permission form in fifteen places. _It wasn't like I __**expected**__ him to show up,_ she told herself unconvincingly. _I extended an open-ended offer. It was his choice whether or not to take me up on it._

_He all but said he would come,_ pointed out another part of her. _He either forgot or changed his mind, neither of which means well for you. Good job, self, you scared off another one._

Reyna accidentally broke off the tip of the pen.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, throwing the ruined utensil into the trash and grabbing a tissue to dab up the ink that had spurted out at the break.

"_Joder_, that's no kind of language for a lady," someone joked from the doorway, and before she even raised her head she recognized the voice. Leo's head poked in, grinning a little more abashedly than usual. Once they made eye contact he let himself the rest of the way inside. Strangely, her stomach twisted at the sight of him.

"You're pushing it," she said, even though (though she'd never admit it) she was relieved he had shown. "It's getting to be evening. I could have been home by now."

"But you weren't," he said triumphantly.

"I should be."

He got distracted, by something about her, apparently. "You look different," he mused. "Not sure what it is, though."

On instinct she started to smooth her braid, but she caught herself in the middle of the motion and deliberately lowered her hand. _It's just Leo,_ she reminded herself, put off that it was even an issue. Who cared what he thought? She went back to the issue at hand: "Anyways, you're still late."

"I know, that was my bad. I lost track of the time, and then one of your Hephaestus—"

"Vulcan."

"—_mechanic_ campers needed help disabling a cannon prototype, which was kind of urgent. Don't worry, I wasn't canoodling or anything, _querida_."

For a moment she floundered, shocked both at the implied accusation (why should she care if he was "canoodling"?) and at the term of endearment. She decided to go with "Don't call me that," but it sounded a little feeble to her. He was still scrutinizing her, and she eyed him in return, smoothing her braid (damn it!) and straightening her shirt. Gods, she needed to stop.

"I've got it!" Leo crowed. "You aren't wearing your armor. Usually you do when you're working."

Reyna looked down at herself, although she had already been well aware that he was right. "I took it off a few hours ago. It's unbelievably difficult to fill out paperwork when you're encased in gold, f-y-i." She pronounced the shorthand with sardonic precision.

"You look smaller without it," he mused, tapping his chin as he examined her, thinking out loud. "I don't know, somehow you look more normal. Less like a fearsome praetor, more like a regular human."

She crossed her arms over her chest, a tad self-conscious. Not that she'd never thought such a thing, but to hear him say it, him specifically . . .

"I mean, it's about time you _did_," he rolled onward, oblivious, "no wonder everyone else is afraid of you, your armor scares them away—"

She felt her hackles raise before she could even put a name to why. She rose abruptly from her chair, her headache pinching her even harder now. "If you only came to criticize my personal choices, you are more than welcome to leave. Door's behind you."

Too late realizing he'd misspoken, Leo took a step backward, raising his hands. "Whoa, hang on, _reina_, I didn't—"

She began to snowball, even though she wasn't sure where the animosity was coming from. Did she really care that much about her armor? "You're already hours later than when it would have been acceptable for you to come, and your first choice is to point out my . . . ?" She took a deep breath, tried to collect herself. "You know what, I think it'd be best if you left. Clearly this was a mistake."

Whether or not it was, his face dropped. _"Reina."_

"Please leave," she said, and though it wasn't quite an order it might as well have been. Pointing at the door, hurt creeping into her tone against her will: "Now."

Confused, disappointed, he backed out of the room.

As soon as he was gone she sank back into her chair, her hands going to the thin fabric of her shirt. _What was that?_ she asked herself. He hadn't really done anything wrong; she had overreacted. _He shouldn't have pointed it out, _another part of her butted in stubbornly. _Whether or not I wear my armor is none of his business._

She liked her armor. But it wasn't like she wore it every day, at least not anymore. For the last week she'd hardly ever worn it when Leo was around—ever since she'd let him off the hook, he'd somehow managed to consistently catch her when her armor was off, for any number of reasons.

Actually, he really did have a knack for finding her out of armor—or coaxing her out of it. She liked the security of it, solid and warm, but she had to admit she felt lighter with it off. She could move more freely, laugh more easily. And laughing did come easily around him.

_But that isn't the point_, she reminded herself. The point was that he looked down on her armor, saw it as a bad thing, when really it was there for her safety. The layer of solid imperial gold protected her. It was only when she let that guard down, when she was _small_ and _normal_, that people attacked her, or left her, or forgot her. That armor was all she had to defend herself with as an ineloquent praetor, and Leo wanted her to get rid of it.

Reyna wasn't even sure she could. She'd hidden behind it for so long that to make herself vulnerable like that again was almost unthinkable. With her Romans, with Percy, with Jason, even with Hylla, her armor always had to be up, flawless, just in case. But somehow, when she was with Leo, he was so open that she got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was safe to let it go, to be open too. That she didn't _need_ to defend herself.

Vulnerability had for the first time been enjoyable. And in a moment of hasty anger, she'd demanded he leave.

Swallowing hard, Reyna reached out and steadied herself with one hand against her desk. _Shit,_ she thought.

Was he even still here? He'd left without arguing. She went for the door, hoping against hope he hadn't gotten far, but ready to track him down if she had to. She opened the office door—and there he was, kneeling as he tinkered on a chair. (Had there been a chair there before?) At the creak of the door he looked up at her and she down at him and they just _looked_, for a solid thirty seconds. He read like an open book: concern, happiness, insecurity, hope flashed across his face. She stood in her own doorway, one hand trailing on the knob, the other pressed against her stomach.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, a phrasing she immediately regretted.

He was wary, but he was honest. "Waiting for you."

Oh, gods. Her hand left the door handle, reached out briefly toward him before retracting, and she blurted, "Did you build that chair just now?"

He chuckled, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I wasn't sure how long I'd have to wait," he admitted.

_Ay caray_. Her eyes closed and she laughed, shaking her head a little, covering her mouth with the back of one hand, reaching out toward him with the other. This was not pragmatic. Logic had less to do with the decision she was about to make than fondness did, a bright warm fondness swelling in her at the sight of this scrawny sweet _graecus_ who had never worn armor in his life, not like hers. With a deep breath, she mustered her courage, pride, humility:

"I think it'd be best if you stayed," Reyna admitted, and even though this was a statement she was questioning him, apologetic, cautious. This was his chance to run. He'd never have to see her with her defenses down again, not if he didn't want to.

Leo beamed, light dancing in his warm, dark eyes. "You bet," he grinned, and he reached up and took her hand.


End file.
